18. THE ONE WITH TIMJIM
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE ONE WITH TIMJIM
Comment: Radio silence? Really? WE ARE CHOMPING AT THE BIT HERE
Comment reply: Hex was spotted at BOTH Portland shows… I think that’s all we needed to see.
Comment reply: Ok well now I need to see MORE cause Hex in the yellow dress????? If West doesn’t date her, can I?
I manage to get through night one without making a complete ass of myself.
And I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to pull it off with the dress Joey wore.
I was even on my best behavior when we went out for drinks after the show and was forced to watch men gawk like pigs wouldn’t have to fly for them to have a chance with her.
Inside the club, she left the oversized leather jacket hanging on a chair near the sound booth.
Without sleeves or a back, the pastel yellow dress showed off the tattooed skin I’d love to spend time memorizing.
The color reminds me of church on Easter, but when Joey turns around, my thoughts are sent straight from the devil herself.
Forgive me, Mother, for I will sin.
I can feel the satin between my fingertips like I’m still tying the straps around her neck if I focus long enough. The dress cuts off mid-shin, and she's wearing her black and white checkered Vans from earlier.
Joey catches me staring at her tits multiple times throughout the night, and I’m starting to think she likes it, because never once does she cuss me out or tell me to jump off the nearest bridge.
We’re making progress.
Our night out didn’t last long—we were all pretty worn out from the night before and ended up in bed much earlier than normal.
But that didn’t mean I fell asleep. No, I laid a bunk above the woman I’d much rather be in a bed with. Instead, I’m forced to keep my cool, to be mature, to ignore whatever this unfamiliar thing with Joey is.
I think I get a total of thirty minutes of sleep, really hoping for a nap before night two’s show, but I'm surprised with a jam-packed day of batching content with Joey, who recruits Enzo and Kell for a few hours.
My path never crosses Joey’s again after sound check, and this time she’s not in the sound booth when I walk out on stage.
The show goes over without a hitch, the smaller venue on their feet as I thank them for coming, ending the show how I do all the others. “Wear your seatbelt, don’t drink and drive, and tell your mom I said hi.”
I’m almost off stage when I spot Joey in the wing and freeze, forgetting how to walk.
Tonight, she’s in a little black dress with a slit on the left thigh.
If it weren’t for her tattoos, the bruises I left on her long legs two nights ago would be much more noticeable.
The braid she’s worn since we left her apartment in Salem is gone, leaving her hair with a beachy wave she keeps down.
Her Docs reflect the stage lights, reminding me that I’m still visible to my audience.
Joey stares at me over her phone, waving me forward with wide eyes. She mouths, what the fuck are you doing?
My feet thankfully propel me forward, restarting my brain. I flash one more dimply smile to the crowd and tuck into the tiny wing with Joey.
She lowers the phone down to her side and meets my gaze with a soft smile. “Got some good stuff from back here tonight. I’ll have plenty of content to leave you with.”
The crowd’s cheers die off and turn into an excited chatter, but I feel a heavy weight settle into my chest now that I’m off stage.
Joey leaves tomorrow.
“Joey, I don’t—” I’m cut off by the club’s manager.
“West, my guy!” He pats me on the shoulder like we’re good buddies, but I can’t remember if his name is Tim or Jim. “What a great weekend! People are already asking when you’ll be back.” TimJim nods at Joey. “I hope you get this girl a drink! She’s been go, go, go since you got here!”
Joey puffs a strained laugh and takes a step back, putting more space than I want between us. “Oof, I think—” she starts.
I don’t let her finish. “She thinks that’s a great idea.” She’s not bailing on the last night we have together. If I only get one more with her, I’m not going to waste it. “Where’s the best dance spot around here?”
The second word gets out we’re going to a club down the street, everyone’s abuzz with excitement. A few of the crew members and a group of their friends join us, along with my boy, TimJim.
It's not a nice club, filled with middle-aged locals who probably should have gone home hours ago, but when they see fresh meat, they find their second wind.
Joey takes every opportunity she can to record content. When we take our first round of shots and clink our glasses together. When Kell does the worm in the middle of the sticky dance floor, she squats down to get the perfect angle.
I’m swept up by a group of women somewhere between the ages of forty and seventy who reek of stale cigarettes and cheap beer. I entertain them long enough to be a good sport but find my escape the second I can.
Enzo left almost an hour ago, wanting to reply to the influx of show requests we’d gotten since he’d caught up this morning.
It doesn’t take me long to find Kell, who chugs, what I hope, is two back-to-back cups of water at the bar. Beside him, talking to the bartender with frosted tips, is Joey.
I squeeze myself in sideways beside her, apologizing to the woman next to me with a sweet, West Parker smile.
Works every time. It’s crazy what a pretty face can get you!
Thanks, Mom and Dad!
The lady forgets what she’s annoyed about and stares until I turn my attention to the reason I shuffled her out of my way.
“How much would I have to pay you to delete the videos of me dancing with those ladies?” I give Joey my sugariest smile, really amping it up in hopes it might work on her too.
My eyes drag to her lips as they pull into a slow, mischievous smirk. I can’t stop thinking about kissing her—this obsession is becoming a distraction. “Hmmm.” Joey ponders, glancing at the ceiling while she pretends to think long and hard. “There’s not enough money in the world, Hotshot.”
I'm finally able to pry my eyes from her lips, and when I do, Joey’s staring at me—watching me, watch her.
The bartender comes back with two shots. Joey slides the extra my way and holds hers up. “To ten-million views.”
She downs hers, but I’m frozen with my mouth hanging open. “T-Ten? Million?” I stumble on my words.
She nods, and I take my shot, needing something to calm my racing heart. It hasn’t even been two full days since the video was posted.
“Your life is about to change, West Parker.”
I mimic her calmness, leaning in to talk over the loud music. “It already has.”
And it has nothing to do with a viral video.
Kell, as usual, is the drunkest. The kid cannot hold his alcohol.
I say kid, although he’s twenty-two with a bachelor’s degree.
I’ll never not see him as the nine-year-old who brought tadpoles into his house, hid them under his bed because he didn’t want his mom to find them, forgot about them, and a few months later, had to explain to his parents why they had a frog problem…
I promised them I’d watch out for him—they would probably think I’m doing a shit job if they saw their son stumbling down the sidewalk, butchering a cover of Jolene, but I’d argue this might be the most fun he’s had since the accident.
In between his slaughter of Dolly Parton and having to catch him before he takes a bite out of a curb, Kell throws his arm over my shoulder and leans in closer than he needs to, slurring loudly.
“So, if you’re not gonna marry her, can I?
” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, untangling his limbs from me to stumble into Joey.
“Kell, keep your hands where I can see them,” I warn, jokingly. Kind of.
She wraps an arm around his midsection without hesitation, helping him walk a straight line. It doesn’t work well, but she manages.
“Whaddaya say, Josette? Wanna marry me? I know West is funny and has like a fucking eight pack.” Kell hiccups. “But he can’t say the alphabet backwards.”
I watch the way Joey’s hips move, swaying in perfect rhythm, pushing her dress higher and higher without free hands to pull it down.
I would help, but there’s no one around to see but me… and I really like the view.
“Z, Y, X, Q—nope. Hold on, let me start over.”
Joey peeks over her shoulder, dragging her eyes from the tips of my shoes to my heavy gaze. I feel more drunk by the time she turns around.
Thankfully, the comedy club is just a few blocks away, and we’re back before we have to carry Kell the rest of the way. He tumbles inside and is now officially Enzo’s problem.
I close the door and lean against it with two arms extended. The whole camper shakes, and it’s easy to hear Kell stomping around, followed by Enzo’s booming voice. “Oh, no you don’t! We aren’t cuddling, Kell! Get out of here!”
Thump.
Kell was either pushed or fell off the bed.
My hands slide down the door, and I turn to find Joey staring at me. I can’t get a read on her, and it’s going to drive me mental! “I’m not going in there until Enzo tucks him in.”
Joey cocks her head. “It’s like you and your scary tattooed best friend have a baby together.”
I breathe a sorry laugh. “If you only knew the half of it.” I don’t let my mind wander there. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Including the goofy comedian. I just don’t like to talk about mine with anyone but my therapist.
“Well, since we’re stuck out here.” Joey points to the table near the back door of the club—yes, we stay in their parking lots sometimes. It’s easy and cheap. I’m not made of money. Yet…
I’ve seen more dollar signs this weekend than I ever have.
We take seats across from each other at the weather-worn plastic table. Its green color has faded to a chalky matte I’m sure will rub off on our clothes, the chairs in questionable condition.
Joey stares at me, and I stare at her, unsure of what to say.
It feels like we’re both skirting around a goodbye.
I don’t want this to be goodbye.